From Riddle to Puzzle: Pick up the pieces
by Aqua4444
Summary: "You're perfect", the scientist said adoringly. "Like our own little private puzzle." "Puzzle", she said slowly. "It sounds familiar." No one knew who she was or what she was: she was a Puzzle and no one yet knew how to put the pieces together. But when the Ministry sends her out to recapture a mad murderer, things are about to be revealed. (Sequel to...)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! **

**This is a sequel to my other story ****_I'm a Riddle, but not the one you're trying to solve_****. It isn't necessary to have read that one first, but in later chapters, it could be good to have done so. **

**The actress in the picture is Katie McGrath as it is in IMARBNTOYTTS as well. **

**This story will mostly follow the canon storyline of the Harry Potter books, but it will also have some changes. Those changes will involve my OC.  
**

**I don't own anything about the Harry Potter world, all rights go to JK Rowling. **

**So, no matter if you are a new reader or an 'old' one, I just want to say: **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1: So wake me up when it's all over, when I'm wiser and I'm older**

The room was dimly lit by tiny lamps in the ceiling, casting a blue-like light over the room. The room was cold, but that wasn't surprising with its empty, colorless walls, metallic furniture and ice like light. Something that sounded very much like rain hitting a window could faintly be heard around the room. It was strange, seeing as the location of the room was far from the sky. It was located deep under the streets of London. Nobody truly knew what was going on down there in this department. Those who worked there barely knew what they were doing themselves. The place wasn't called the Department of Mysteries for no reason.

In the middle in the room, on a clean metallic bed like one of those in a hospital, was the thing they were currently studying in this room. It was covered in a snow white blanket and from under it you could see strangely looking chains poking out. They were red and if you would lean in closer and feel them, you would be surprised of their pulsating and warmth. The chains were all connected to weird instruments all around the cold room. They were even weird by wizard standards.

The lights in the ceiling flickered as if someone was walking too hard on the floor above. The rain shattering sound continued, but it grew steadier and steadier, just to slow down and be weakened.

White smoke puffed out from one of the instruments in the room and at the same time another instrument set off a terrible sound that sounded like a muggle siren. A self-writing feather quill, black and sleek, jumped up from its place on the freakishly clean desk. It dipped itself in a bottle of watery-like ink and started to write on a piece of parchment. As soon as the ink touched the parchment, it turned deep red. The quill wrote:

**_It's starting. _**

. . . .

Brandon Fulcher was awoken by the sound that he had an urgent floo-message. He was out of his bed in an instant, his heart in his throat and he hurried to the small fireplace of the hotel room he was currently renting.

"Yeah, what is it?" he asked groggily as the thin and foxlike face of one of his colleagues appeared in a flash of green flames.

"You will not believe this", Varushka said gleefully, her Russian accent barely traceable. "But Alexander succeeded."

The previously sleepiness disappeared completely and Brandon straightened up, a shocked and disbelieving look upon his young face.

"You can't be serious", he told her, looking as though he waited for her to laugh. "You're pulling my leg. There's absolutely no. . . ."

"We're living in a world of magic", Varushka pointed out, her eyes smirking. "Anything can happen. Now hurry up, he want us both to be there since there is no way of knowing what will happen."

That snapped Brandon out of his thoughts.

"You mean sh. . . . _it _hasn't woken up yet?" he asked and now he sounded a bit excited, even though he still looked worried.

"No", Varushka sighed and she looked impatient. "Get down here now. You don't want to miss it. Thank God that it chosen this time of the day or I would have missed it."

Brandon thought it was pretty strong of her to thank God, seeing as she was a vampire with no faith whatsoever in anything holy. Brandon, who was a muggleborn wizard, still believed in God even though his fellow wizards claimed that there wasn't any power higher than Merlin's.

"I'll be there in. . . .", he looked at the clock: it was nearing midnight. "I'll be there before the clock strikes twelve."

"I'll hope so", smirked Varushka and disappeared in the flames again, leaving only darkness behind her.

Brandon wildly looked around after some clothes while his mind was reeling: How could Alexander have been right? He was mad. Out of his mind. They had had to use violence when they collected him from his lab since he refused to leave. Not even a personal talk with the Minister that he had to retire and leave had made any impact on Alexander. No, he had fought and continued with his crazy experiments in secret. It was five years ago since he had been fired from the Department, but the project he had been working on had taken him nearly fourteen years and Brandon had only been a part of it for eight of those years.

He hastily pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt with the name _Dire Straits _printed on the front in white letters. It was when he was brushing his teeth and combing his wild, brown hair that he realized that Varushka had seen him practically half naked moments before. The realization made him blush. The beautiful and deviously clever vampire would surely keep that in mind for her teasing. While Alexander was unpredictable, Varushka usually wasn't.

The clock was a quarter to twelve when Brandon felt somewhat respectable. He grabbed his wand and the key to the lab and after checking that his door was locked, he pulled out some blue powder from one of the hidden boxes under a floorboard under his bed. Floo powder usually was green, but the blue powder could only take you within the Department of Mysteries. Everyone that worked there always had a little stash of it at home in case it would become necessary to work when you least expected it.

Only hesitating slightly, he looked out of the window to make sure that no one saw him. There was no one there in the cold, dark night. Only snow falling like solid tears from the black, velvety sky. Brandon sighed deeply before casting the powder into the fireplace. He watched it take the form of fire, but it was sparkling too much to be fire and the blue color made it more ice-like than a real fire.

"Department of Mysteries, second corridor, dragonfly route", Brandon stated calmly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

With a sound of someone lightening a match, he was swallowed by the blue flames and disappeared, leaving his hotel room behind.

. . . .

Brandon gracefully stepped out of the fireplace, relieved when the alarms didn't start. Travelling with the dragonfly route was always easier and didn't rise as much suspicion as if he had chosen another route.

He stepped out of the small room and into the corridor. The room was small and the most normal one in the whole department. It was their arrival room where they all had a locker to keep their stuff while working.

Brandon prayed that he wouldn't run into anyone while running to get Alexander and Varushka from their usual meeting place. Since neither of them was allowed into the department, Brandon was their key to get in. Sometimes Brandon wondered why he did this: it could cost him his job and a trip to Azkaban. It was illegal. Alexander was banned from the department, even from the Ministry, and Varushka was a vampire. She was as welcomed here as the Black Death.

A wiser man may not have done what Brandon had done, but Brandon was curious. He liked to solve the riddles down here, riddles no other wizards and witches before had solved. And he couldn't deny that Alexander's project was interesting. Mad and impossible, but definitely interesting.

Brandon didn't meet anyone, but he could hear people working in section eleven. He had no idea what they did there. He worked in section three where they tried to make it possible to possess different powers from different magical creatures. And during his spare time, he worked for an illegal scientist.

Alexander and Varushka waited in their usual place. Alexander looked frenetic, his white hair standing in different angles and he hadn't bothered to dress properly. He was still in his nightshirt.

"Hurry my boy", he said loudly as Brandon locked up the invisible door to let them in. "It will soon be over and I can't stand to miss it. Years of research. . . ."

In his hand he held a parchment, but Brandon couldn't read what it was saying since Alexander was waving his arms around. Varushka was elegantly dressed in black and her black eyes were gleaming with mirth. Brandon could partly share their enthusiasm, but he was anxious that they would be discovered.

"Be quiet", he begged Alexander, holding one of his arms in a firm grip like he was a badly behaved child. "You never know who's listening here."

Alexander nodded, but his bright grey eyes were somewhere else. Brandon sighed and his stomach clenched horribly.

"Relax", Varushka said and grabbed both men's arms. "Alexander's right. We need to hurry. I haven't donated blood for fourteen years for nothing."

With that said, and before Brandon could protest, she had dragged them across the corridor in a speed only vampires could manage. Brandon felt sick as they moved faster and faster up and down, turning right and left. The tricky thing in the Department of Mysteries was that the ways around here often could change. So it was lucky to have a vampire who could easily navigate her way around. Alexander didn't have a problem with traveling at vampire speed. The old man had done a lot of weird things in his life that he was prepared for anything.

They arrived outside a small, bland door in an abandoned corridor a very long distance under the rest of the department. As soon as Varushka let them go, Alexander threw himself at the door, eager to get in.

"Open!" he cried and put an ear to the door. "I can hear it!"

"The key", Varushka hissed at Brandon as he shakily locked up the door.

Alexander even beat Varushka into the room and he looked like Christmas had come early. The pale and dull room was no longer as dull and cold as it usually was. The metallic instruments made odd noises, blinking in different colors so Brandon felt like he was in a muggle nightclub. Varushka grimaced, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands over her ears. White and green smoke oozed around the room and Brandon started to cough.

"What's going on?" he managed to say over all the noise.

"I don't know", Varushka spat out, sounding like every word caused her pain.

Alexander didn't care. He was filled with happiness. After fourteen years of experimenting and theories, he would finally gain a result. He hurried to the metallic bed and pulled off the white blanket. The look upon his old face was gentle, almost like a father who looked upon his firstborn.

"Come on", Brandon coughed and dragged Varushka across the room.

The smoke smelled of raspberries and magic. Very strong magic. It was overwhelming. Brandon imagined it would smell like this in a store with perfumes for women. Varushka looked sick, well, as sick as a vampire could look.

Suddenly the room went quiet. The lamps were still blinking in irregular movements, but the noises had died down. Looking relieved, Varushka removed her hands from her ears.

"Look at her", Alexander spoke tenderly, his eyes holding nothing but affection. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Brandon and Varushka looked down at the girl lying on the bed. She could barely be out of her late teens. She was pale, horribly so. All over her body, she had scars that looked like someone had tried to patch her up. Which in this case was the truth. The scars, or seams, were either dark red, gold or faint blue, almost silver. They went all over her, neatly or sloppy, straight or zigzag. There wasn't a place on her whole body that didn't have some kind of mark. Her hair was dark and tousled. One of her eyes was closed while the other was missing. It was like a hole and in that hole were thin, wormlike seams in gold. The girl barely looked human. She looked magical and with a certain beauty, yes. But it had taken the three of them years to make her look like that. And all would be for nothing if she didn't have the right functions in her head.

They could hear a faint beating, almost like a heart. Brandon's breath caught in his throat, Varushka looked curious and Alexander had tears of joy in his eyes.

The beating got faster and the chains that held the girl to the bed slowly retreated. Brandon was prepared to get some salve to ease the tiny wounds on her body were the chains had been stuck. But Varushka stopped him.

"Watch", she whispered breathlessly.

And Brandon did.

Before his eyes, the girl healed. The golden lines on her body shone brightly and the red ones were pounding. Where the small wounds had been seconds before, was now smooth skin again. He took a deep breath and slowly a smile was breaking out on his sunburned face.

"Unbelievable", he muttered, fascinated beyond words.

"We did it", Varushka said in triumph and her smirk was back in place.

Alexander didn't speak. Words were failing him. The three colleagues stood in silence, save for the beating of a heart.

The girl's only eye opened. It was dark green, like a pines needles.

"Beautiful", Alexander mumbled again.

The girl looked wildly around, trying to adjust to the light and her surroundings. She parted her lips, carefully, and said in a raspy voice:

"Where am I?"

"You're currently in the Department of Mysteries", Alexander explained gently, but with wildness in his eyes. "The year is 1992 and the date. . . . well, it's probably early morning, the twentieth first December. My name is Alexander Flamel and this is Brandon Fulcher and Varushka. We've been taking care of you. "

The girl looked thoughtful, gathering her thoughts. The others didn't press her. They needed to see how she could manage herself. After a while, the girl asked:

"Who am I?"

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**So, how about that as a start? **

**Please leave a comment on what you thought about the chapter! I'm open to any kind of constructive criticism.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, favourited and alerted this story. It means a lot to hear your opinions and to know that there are people who enjoy this story so far. **

**I don't own anything about the Harry Potter world, just my OCs. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 2: Oh, na na, what's my name? Oh, na na, what's my name? **

_Who am I? _

The words left a prickling silence after them as she tasted the words. She felt strange, like her body was possessed by something strong and magical with its own mind. Her only eye took in the surroundings: the room seemed to be shining in different colors and the three faces watching her looked very different. The old man – Alexander? – had a wrinkled face and wild, white hair now specked with colors from the lights in the room. His eyes were difficult to read, but he seemed awed to be in her presence. It felt odd.

The woman, Varushka, was pale and thin faced, looking shrewd and cunning, dark and mysterious. Her eyes were black and her hair was a golden red, reminding the girl about the autumn leaves, though she wasn't sure of where she had seen them. When Varushka smiled encouragingly, she exposed her teeth which were all white and some were very pointy. The girl's body filled with a heat, a rush of recognition.

The last of the group, the youngest of them all, was a man as well. He looked shocked, with wide grey eyes and long, light brown hair that seemed soft. Though he was also covered in spots of color from the lamps all over the room. He looked at her with respect and something similar to fear. Why should he fear her?

"You don't remember anything?"

Alexander sounded curious, respectful and disappointed at the same time. It made her head spin around, feeling that it was too many emotions for her to handle. But his question triggered something in the back of her head.

Red.

A lot of red, a lot of pain, sharp and burning, like fire, tearing her apart, piece by piece. She sat up quickly, making Brandon and Alexander jump in surprise, though the latter seemed pleased by the act. Varushka smiled even wider. Alexander suddenly had a quill in his hand and due to lack of parchment; he started to write on his own skin.

"Pain", she whispered, lost in thoughts with pictures in a vivid red in her mind. "So much pain. . . ."

"Don't worry, _zverenysh_", said Varushka soothingly, carefully placing one of her hands on the girl's bare arm. "Pain won't bother you in the future."

The girl looked at Varushka and seemed to find some peace in the vampire's face, because she relaxed. Brandon watched them in silence, still having a hard time to believe that they had succeeded. For it did seem that they were successful: the girl showed no signs of slow mentality or aggressive behavior. The only fault was perhaps that she didn't remember anything, but Brandon didn't find that surprising. Giving thought of her condition before, Brandon was amazed that she could even talk and register things. Magic truly could do wonders.

"Do you think you can stand?" asked Alexander curiously, like a child.

The girl furrowed her dark brows, biting her lip, before slowly heaving one of her long legs over the bed's edge. Then the other. She hesitantly let her bare feet touch the cold floor, standing up straight. Varushka and Brandon were prepared to catch her if she showed any sign of not being able to walk.

She took one step, feeling odd. Her legs were numb as if they were still asleep. It didn't hurt, just felt uncomfortable. All the same, she could walk though she did it a bit unsteady. Alexander's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head and he scribbled furiously on his wrinkled skin.

"Look at you!" he cried and reached out to touch her when she came back from her short walk. "You're absolutely perfect."

He managed to stroke her side, looking completely devoted as he did so. It wasn't anything perverted over the whole scene, even if the girl was naked. Alexander was just like an artist admiring one of his finest piece of work. The girl didn't seem to look naked, because her skin with its seams and lines made her look like she was wearing a body shaped, pale outfit.

"Yes, you're perfect", repeated Alexander. "Like our own private puzzle."

The girl looked thoughtful, green eye glistening in the colorful lights, though they started to become dimmer. She licked her lips as if she was unsure what to say.

"Puzzle", she said slowly. "It sounds familiar."

This caught the other three's attention.

"How so?" Alexander asked interested, quill ready to take some notes. "Was it your name, perhaps? Someone you knew?"

"I think so", she said uncertainly, looking at her scarred, pale hands. "It meant something to me. . . . like I just needed it to be solved. I don't know. . . ."

Alexander nodded, scribbling on his nightshirt now. Varushka looked thoughtful, staring at the girl with intense eyes.

"I'll guess we could call you that", begun Brandon slowly, trying to keep his voice normal. "Puzzle, I mean."

The girl tipped her head to one side, looking at him with a pleased green eye. Brandon focused on her eye, because the hole without an eye was too uncomfortable to look at.

"Perhaps", she said, feeling better of hearing him speak to her.

Acceptance. That was what she wanted. She seemed to have gotten to the right place, the right people, to get it. Brandon smiled at her.

"Excellent idea, Brandon", agreed Alexander seriously, absently nodding but not looking up from his writing. "Puzzle. It's fitting."

"It sounds like she's an animal", Varushka said in disgust, a sneer on her pale face. "A pet."

"It can work as a surname then", said Brandon defensively, jutting his chin out.

"Can you remember your name? Any letters. . . .?"

Alexander left the question hanging in the air as the girl frowned, her eye darkening with concentration. She tried, she really did. It seemed important to these three people that she remembered and she didn't want to disappoint them. She felt like she owed them, every fiber in her body stirring and burning with gratefulness and fire. She felt safe and somewhere deep in the back of her mind she knew she hadn't been safe in a long time. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get a grip around her name. It slipped out of her mind like vapor, only letting her see glimpses of it.

"It has an 'y' in it. . . .", she said uncertainly, almost making it sound like a question as if she was unsure of the letter's name. "And a 'l' and an 'a' I think. . . ."

"Yla. . . . It sounds odd", scoffed Varushka, circling around the girl and eyeing her with a critically eye. "You'll need a stronger name."

"An elegant name", butted Alexander in, eyes gleaming like the moon. "You're a magnificent creature; you deserve a powerful name, a unique name."

The girl smiled a bit, lips barely stretching out to a pleasant smile. Neither of the others could read the meaning behind that smile. Once again, it was Brandon that came up with a name.

"How about Ylvanna?" he suggested, wiping away some sweat from his forehead with one of his hands.

The room had gone hotter and he suspected that it was because of the girl. Her golden scars were glimmering and for each of her heartbeats, a wave of heat seemed to flow through the room. Brandon saw that Alexander was sweating as well; he had some wet blotches on his nightshirt that weren't from the ink. Varushka didn't sweat, but her pale skin was adapting to a frosty, rosy color like ham. When thinking of ham, Brandon realized that he was hungry.

"How do you come up with these names?" Varushka asked him, but her tone suggested that she liked the name.

Brandon shrugged.

"I read a lot."

Alexander looked ecstatic and the girl had a soft, almost non-existing smile on her pale, scarred face.

"Ylvanna", repeated Alexander. "Ylvanna Puzzle. I like it. It sounds majestic and wild, a mouthful of mystery."

Brandon felt pleased of knowing that they liked the name. It was an honor to name this new, fascinating creature. He looked her over before asking her in a soft voice, trying to show her that he wanted to know what she thought:

"Do you like the name?"

She did a grimace and then smiled. She looked both troubled and calm.

"I do", she assured him. "It's just new to me. . . ."

"I think it's perfect", announced Alexander with the tone of a stubborn child and she smiled slightly at him. "You're different; you'll need a different name."

She sat down on the cold bed again, thinking. It felt both right and wrong that name. It was beautiful, but she didn't get the feeling that it was the name she had been graced with before. She couldn't remember. Looking up from her long, pale and scarred fingers and into the face of the three other people in the room, her family, her creators, she said:

"I'm Ylvanna Puzzle then."

. . . .

Ylvanna came to love her new family. They accepted her, made her try new things and learn about her powers and the world. Varushka was her mother, her blood flowing in Ylvanna's veins. Beneath the vampire's sarcastic and playful façade, Ylvanna came to know a warmth and fierce protectiveness. Alexander was her father, being the one who had made her body, heart and brain. He was utterly devoted to her, loving her and taught her what he knew. Brandon became like her brother, calm and carefree. When the other two treated her like an experiment from time to time, Brandon tried to act like she was human, a normal teenager. Ylvanna loved them and to her, her past didn't matter. They were her future.

She lived in the same room as she had woken up in, though it was now decorated more comfortably and warmly in the colors of autumn. Another member to her new family was a bleak, little creature called a house elf with the name Twyne. Twyne was old and belonged to Alexander even though he had been set free by Alexander of mistake. The little house elf wore a white coat and he had tiny glasses for his enormous eyes. Years of serving Alexander and putting up with his experiments had left Twyne with bad eyesight.

. . . .

_End of January, 1993 _

"Ylvanna, we've got a gift for you."

Ylvanna looked up from her book, dark curls falling into her face. She looked happy to see them, but she frowned.

"Where's Varushka?" she asked, looking around for the vampire.

"She couldn't be here", Brandon explained as he sat down on a chair in front of her.

Ylvanna nodded in understanding. Out of all of them, Varushka was the one that came and went as she wished and could. Ylvanna had been told that it was important for all of them not to be seen. Twyne had therefore added with his magic a special protection over the room, making it even harder to find.

"Are you comfortable?" wondered Alexander, inspecting everything as he always did.

"Yes, very", Ylvanna answered. "Are we going to continue with the lessons today?"

She looked at Brandon as she said this, knowing when Alexander was deep in his own world. Brandon smiled, sniveling a bit.

"Later. First, we've got you something."

Seeing that Brandon was still feeling cold after being outside, Ylvanna put away her book and took his hands in hers. Immediately Brandon felt warm, like a newly baked pie ready to be taken out from the oven.

"Thank you", he said, meaning every word. "I don't like winter."

"I wouldn't know", said Ylvanna, biting her lip and looking at her pale hands.

Little did she know that they were as white as the snow outside. Brandon thought she looked miserable and he sighed. He rummaged his coat pocket and took out a tiny, black box.

"Here", he said, trying to get her on other thoughts.

It worked. She looked up, her green eye lighting up with interest. There was something they had learned about her; she was awfully curious and sometimes had a temper as if she was driven by a fire.

"Merry late Christmas, Ylvanna."

Carefully, Ylvanna accepted the box. It wasn't heavy, but felt smooth against her thin fingers. She opened it and on a red fabric laid a black stone. She picked it up. The stone was oval shaped and in the middle it had two thin golden circles. The markings made it look a lot like. . . .

"An eye", whispered Ylvanna and smiled at the irony.

"Yeah", Brandon said. "And it wasn't easy to get", he continued jokingly. "I had to visit Mad-Eye Moody to get it specially ordered. The old man's barkers. He almost hexed me twice during our meeting."

Ylvanna let out a low chuckle and raised the eye, admiring it in the light.

"Here, let me help you", Alexander fretted over her and taking the eye from her. "Now, lean back."

Ylvanna did as he asked, turning her head so she was facing Alexander. He had one of his old hands under her chin, tilting her head up. The other was carefully and lovingly placing the eye into her empty eye socket. As soon as the cold, black surface touched the golden threads, they embraced the eye. Ylvanna drew back from Alexander. It tickled. She blinked and when she opened her eyes again, she could see with both her eyes, the other sharper than the other.

"Look at you!" cried Alexander emotionally, clapping his hands in excitement. "Magnificent as always."

Brandon watched Ylvanna look around the room, taking everything in for a second time. Her new eye was bottomless and emotionless. It's elegant, but when looking at her; her scarred face and mismatched eyes, he couldn't help but think of Mad-Eye and how suspicious he was about Brandon asking about his eye. He swallowed.

"Thank you", Ylvanna said and kissed Alexander on the cheek and the gesture got the old man's eyes to water.

She gave Brandon a hug and he felt her warm body through his thick layer of clothes. Her body temperature was abnormal for a human, but most of their tests hinted that she was mostly human.

He breathed in the scent of her which was purely magical. It was strange how this peculiar creature could've wormed her way into his heart.

Ylvanna pulled away from him, some leftovers of snow now on her body. She smiled brightly, the golden lines of the new eye catching the light.

"Do we start today's lesson then?"

Her enthusiasm for both learning history and fighting, pushing her own limits, were contagious. Brandon smiled wryly back, taking of his long coat. Alexander prepared his quill and parchment, a fierce light in his eyes.

"Let's get started."

Ylvanna smiled, both her eyes burning.

* * *

**So, that was that. **

**_z__verenysh_ ****is Russian and means 'young one'. I got the translation from Google translate, so I hope it's somewhat right. **

**Leave a review if there's anything you want to say or favourite and follow if you feel for it. It's very much appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Finally, chapter 3 is up! **

**I know it has been a while, but this was a tricky chapter to write. I hope that the next chapter won't be taking as long as this one, but one can never be sure. **

**Anyway, I would like to thank those who have read, reviewed, followed and added this story as a favourite. For you, I'm going to try to update sooner than this time. **

**I don't own anything about Harry Potter and his world, JK Rowling does. I only own my own characters. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Breaking the law, breaking the law, breaking the law, breaking the law! **

_End of October, 1993 _

Alexander was brushing Ylvanna's hair. He did it gently, afraid of hurting her, while humming a foreign song Ylvanna did not know. He seemed the least worried and tense of the four of them. Brandon was sitting on a chair, pale and sweating, looking as if he was going to be sick. Varushka was pacing the room in vampire speed, looking nothing more than a blur of black while hissing curses in Russian under her breath.

Ylvanna's face was as if it was set in marble. Her hands were in her lap and her skin seemed to glow in contrast to her light blue dress. When Alexander was done with her hair, it hung in loose curls down her back. Her hair reached her bum, but Alexander didn't have the heart to cut it. And also, because every time they got closer to Ylvanna with something pointy and sharp, like a scissor or a knife, she acted more like an animal, growling and getting vicious.

"There", said Alexander, admiring his work. "You look beautiful, even more so than usual."

He sounded casual, not like this was the most important of nights in their lives. When the meeting was over, the Minister and the Heads of the Departments would've made their decision. Good or bad.

The door opened and Brandon jumped of his chair in fright. Varushka fought not to bare her teeth. They needed to make a good impression.

There were two wizards on the other side of the door. Both were dressed in Auror uniforms and had their wands ready. Just in case.

"They're ready for you", the oldest of them said in a voice void of any emotions.

Alexander rubbed his hands together.

"Excellent."

He called on Twyne to get him his papers and then he was out of the door, whistling to himself. The Aurors ignored him, knowing that this was normal for Alexander Flamel and knowing that he didn't have a wand. He wasn't a threat.

Brandon was next out of the room, breathing heavily. They had already confiscated his wand and without it, he didn't know what to do with his hands. He let his arms hang aside his body and clenched his hands.

Varushka walked with elegance, not seeming bothered by the hidden disgust in the Aurors eyes. She was proud of being a vampire.

Ylvanna came last and the Aurors immediately closed up around her, their expressions guarded and wands threateningly out. She didn't act as if it bothered her. It didn't. She was as cold and empty as an ice cube as she followed the Aurors.

They seemed to be walking in circles through a labyrinth. Ylvanna found it fascinating. After all, she had only been inside one room for a long time. They walked through a corridor with bright blue walls and silver doors shaped like different moons; a corridor with dark walls without no doors, but the walls seemed to be talking; then there was a corridor with doors that moved which they had to stun to get through the right one; and then there was a corridor that looked as if they had stepped out in space with stars and planets all around them.

Eventually, after walking in what seemed like hours, they eventually reached a door that opened up for a grand corridor in white, polished and fancy. The Aurors opened another door, a red one, and politely asked Alexander and his two assistants to go in first. They did – all with different expressions – and Ylvanna and the two Aurors bought up the rear. The short moment when Ylvanna couldn't see Alexander, Varushka and Brandon made her queasy and she moved restlessly. The Aurors still had their wands pointed at her.

The new room was large and in the shape of a circle. The walls were light blue, matching Ylvanna's dress, and it seemed to have been cleaned quickly before their arrival. It had some benches and tiny stalls in different colors. A few odd items were lying in a heap in a non-existent corner, puffing and whizzing.

The room was also full of people.

At least six of them were Aurors, Ylvanna could tell from their uniforms, emotionless faces and watchful eyes. Then there were five other people, looking more important than the pack of Aurors.

One of these people – a tall, older man with a stern face and hair like a lion mane – immediately came to Ylvanna's side with a tighter grip around his wand.

"Good", he said curtly to the Aurors, but his eyes never leaving Ylvanna. "I'll take _her _from here."

He said the word 'her' as if he wanted to insult her. She could feel her power rush through her scars and her black eye gleamed suspiciously at the man.

"Now, let's get this started then", spoke a short man with a bowler hat nervously, looking almost as green as his robes.

"Of course, Minister", said the lion man and gestured that Ylvanna should go first.

She did so, moving gracefully, feeling everyone's eyes on her. The man led her to one of the booth, ordering her to sit down. She did, though she clenched her jaws as she sat down. Immediately, she was chained to the chair. Not with chains, but with thin, slithering ropes, reminding her of worms. She looked up, panic written all over her face.

"What are you doing?!" shouted Alexander wildly from his seat.

He tried to move, but two Aurors held him down. Varushka let out a growl and Brandon moved nervously in his seat.

"There, there, Mr Flamel", spoke the Minister, nervously moving his bowler in his hands. "It's just a precaution. . . ."

"She's not an animal", spat Varushka furiously.

"We cannot be sure of that", said an elderly man with short, grey hair and grave face.

"Let's just begin, shall we?" interrupted an older lady with a monocle shielding one of her dark blue eyes.

"You're absolutely right, Madam Bones", said the youngest of the five, a man dressed in white and black robe, nodding at Madam Bones.

The five of them sat down on a row, facing the rest of the room. The Aurors stood on their guard; expressionless faces that made it seem as if they weren't really present.

The woman, Madam Bones, started to read from a heap of well-organized papers, her voice echoing around the round room:

"We are here today to decide if The Creature, also known as Ylvanna Puzzle, is a danger and need to be put down or locked away. Also to decide what the charged – Alexander Augustus Flamel, Varushka Orlova and Brandon James Fulcher – will receive for punishment as they have broken the law and experimented on their own."

Madam Bones continued with reading up the names of the judges of the case and the witnesses. Ylvanna soon forgot all the witnesses' names, but she laid the names of the judges on her mind. If this ended badly, she wanted to remember whose fault that was.

"Mr Flamel", said Madam Bones briskly. "Would you please step forwards and explain the reason for this experiment as you was the one who started it, that's correct?"

"Yes, Amelia", said Alexander as if this was just a normal day's conversation. "I'm the one responsible for Ylvanna as she came to be."

"But you did know that it was illegal?" asked the Minister whose name was Cornelius Fudge, Ylvanna remembered. "You had lost your license and position here at the Ministry. . . ."

"When I started to work on Ylvanna, I still was hired by the Ministry. I vaguely started my work in November 1978, as I found Ylvanna then."

"Found?" exclaimed the elderly man with the grave face, Herbert Cunningham, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, looking puzzled.

"Yes, Herbert", said Alexander gravely, his eyes lightening up. "I found her. Pieces of her."

Ylvanna didn't move an inch in her seat, feeling that every scar on her body proved Alexander right. It didn't stop the Ministry workers to look in her direction, wearing different expressions.

"Please, Mr Flamel", said Rufus Scrimgeour, the lion man and Head over the Auror Office, in a patient voice with his eyes narrowed. "Do tell us the whole story."

Alexander smiled slightly and bowed his head and it was impossible to say if he was mocking them or not.

He told them how he had found parts of her in an old ruin of a muggle manor near his house. It was said to be a haunted place because no one dared to get close to it, not even the animals. Ylvanna had been butchered it had seemed. When he told them how he had gathered the body parts and brought them to his home, a lot of the people in the room looked disgusted. Brandon looked a bit nauseous.

"Why would you do such a thing?" cried Fudge, his voice increased an octave higher.

"He's mad", Scrimgeour muttered to Otto Bellman, the Head of the Department of Mysteries. "Should've had him locked up a long time ago. And I must say that the security down here. . . ."

Bellman nodded absently and Varushka, having heard the exchange, snarled.

"Well, I couldn't leave a corpse there, could I?" Alexander asked conversationally, shaking his head at Fudge. "It was something that drew me to that place, some strong magic. Do you believe in fate, Minister?"

"I. . . .", stuttered Fudge, looking uncomfortable. "That's not important for the investigation."

"I do", Alexander continued as if Fudge hadn't spoken. "And I think that was my fate to find Ylvanna that day."

"Still, Mr Flamel", Madam Bones said in a crisp voice. "You should have reported to the Ministry when you found the corpse. It was your duty."

Alexander turned to her with a smile on his face that didn't match the expression in his eyes.

"You wouldn't have cared. It was war times, Madam, people died every day. To be honest, I think that the Ministry was relieved that I didn't report the murder. Much less work for them."

Nobody said anything after he had spoken. Ylvanna could feel in the air that whatever Alexander had said had shaken the Ministry employers. She glanced around the room, swallowing, and hoped that it would be over soon.

"That was years ago", said Madam Bones eventually, her voice steady. "And it can't be investigated further since the evidence of murder is long gone. . . ."

"I hardly think that butchering seems like the way Death Eaters would've done a murder", Scrimgeour said coldly.

"What I am curious about", spoke Bellman, not being able to hide the interest in his eyes, "is how you got _her _to become like this."

"I think we all want to know that", said Cunningham, his old face as grave as before.

"Oh, it wasn't difficult, not with the right help", Alexander said gracefully. "I admit that it took a long time, but I can't say it was difficult. It was all about the details."

"Yes, Mr Flamel, but how?" inquired Madam Bones.

"Simple, Madam. Vampire blood, unicorn blood, tears of a phoenix, the elixir of life and magic."

He held up a new finger for every new thing he said. The five Ministry workers looked at him with mouths agape, but neither Varushka nor Brandon looked as if this was news to them.

"Unicorn blood. . . ."

"You used her blood. . . ."

"Tears of a phoenix. . . ."

"Magic, Mr Flamel. . . ."

"_The elixir of life_. . . !"

Ylvanna stared at her hands. She gently moved her fingers, but couldn't seem to grasp what was wrong with the things that had given her life.

Scrimgeour and Madam Bones were the first ones to recover, masking their faces to look indifferent. Fudge was the last one, looking completely jumpy. Alexander was smiling as the Aurors guarding him started to look a bit nervous. They all thought he was mad.

"Explain, Mr Flamel", demanded Madam Bones, putting back her monocle that had fallen out.

"You do realize that it is a crime to work with such liquids", said Cunningham seriously before Alexander had a chance to answer. "And you, Miss Orlova, have broken one of the most important laws of vampirism."

Varushka snorted.

"I was a young vampire with no place to go. Alexander found me and offered me a place as his assistant. To me, it wasn't a crime. To me, it was a chance to do something good despite my nature."

"In science, Herbert", said Alexander. "You don't have any boundaries. The point is to make your experiment work, to find something new. It's not about what's right and what's wrong."

"I agree", said Bellman smoothly, grey eyes shining. "But I would like to know _how_, Mr Flamel. One scientist to another."

Alexander was still smiling, but something dark crept into his eyes.

"It's easier if I show you." He turned around and gestured to Ylvanna. "Would you mind assisting me, Ylvanna? So they can see how valuable and unique you are."

Ylvanna nodded. She tried to move, but her ropes were still holding her down. She looked over to the Ministry workers with a look that resembled a predator's. Alexander didn't seem to find anything wrong with the situation.

"I promise that she's not dangerous", was all that he said, his voice thick with amusement.

They let Ylvanna loose after some quiet discussion that only Varushka could hear properly. Ylvanna could hear it as well, but to her, it was more of a buzzing noise. She could feel her heart speed up.

She went to stand next to Alexander. He was smiling warmly at her and his eyes promised that everything would be okay. Ylvanna believed him.

Alexander told her to take of her dress so he could tell them all about her scars. She did so, much to the discomfort of the gathered. She, however, didn't mind. It was much freer this way, like she had just stepped out if her second skin.

Ylvanna stood completely still as Alexander circled around her, explaining about the scars. The golden scars were a mixture of phoenix tears and the elixir of life. Apparently Alexander had managed to get some from an old relative of his, Nicholas Flamel. Ylvanna had never heard of him, but the Ministry workers had and they looked very offended when Alexander hinted that they didn't. The silver scars, those that were almost blue, contained unicorn blood. The red scars were of Varushka's blood and Ylvanna could almost feel it surge through her body.

When Alexander was done, he gave Ylvanna a proud smile. He turned to the five judges, almost as if he expected them to give him a pat on the back. They did no such thing.

"I still don't understand how", said Bellman, furrowing his brows. "It's obvious that the mixture of it all keeps _her _alive, but how and what are the side effects?"

"She can do a lot of things. She's strong, her senses are sharper. . . ."

"Can she do any magic?"

Alexander smiled at the question as if it was the funniest thing he had heard. He took out the papers he had brought, waving with them in the air. Everyone's eyes followed the movement.

"This is my notes for my research, my experiment", he spoke clearly and loudly. He ignored the Ministry workers eager and apprehensive looks and gave the papers to Ylvanna. "Let's show them what you can do."

Ylvanna stared at him, looking confused. Scrimgeour stood up with eyes wild as a lion's. The Aurors all held their wands in a tighter grip. Brandon breathed heavily and was sweaty. Varushka looked calm.

"Go on", nodded Alexander encouragingly. "Show them your favorite trick."

Ylvanna looked down at the papers, tracing the ink letters with a pale finger as if to remember every word. Then she looked up at the judges and the papers burst into flames.

Chaos erupted.

Wands were drawn, shooting spells to try and repair the papers. Fudge was jumping up and down, shouting 'Arrest them, arrest them!' Scrimgeour almost launched himself at Alexander, shooting hexes at him which Alexander only could duck. Cunningham and a couple of Aurors tried to keep Varushka down; she was growling and baring her teeth, a menacing look in her now red eyes. Brandon ducked hexes with reflexes Alexander could only wish to have. Madam Bones was trying to get everything to calm down, but without succeeding. Bellman was watching Ylvanna while rather unenthusiastically trying to get the Minister to sit down again.

At first, Ylvanna didn't know what to do. She managed to avoid any hexes thrown her way, but it was when Alexander was hit with three well-aimed spells at the same time that something snapped inside of her.

She could feel her blood boil and she let out a growl. Like a cat, she jumped gracefully over the fighting wizards and landed at Alexander's side. She pushed an Auror away with such force that he flew into a wall and stayed there, unconscious. The rest of the Aurors let out surprised shouts mixed with the names of spells and hexes. They advanced on her, but the same bright fire as before rose from her hands and made them weary of getting any closer.

"Fix him", Ylvanna said through clenched teeth, meaning Alexander. "Fix him now."

She stared at Scrimgeour, knowing that he was the leader. He stared back through narrowed eyes.

"Now look here", he begun but stopped when a ball of fire came flying towards him.

He threw himself onto the ground, knocking down one of the Aurors as he did so. Ylvanna glared at them all, though she looked desperate as she did so.

"Ylvanna!" cried Brandon as he pushed his way through the circle of Aurors. "Calm down!"

She turned to glare at him as well, but her face softened as she took him in.

"Step away from Alexander", Brandon said slowly and tried to sound reassuring. "They can fix him if you just step away. . . ."

Ylvanna looked torn. She looked around the room and registered that everyone was looking at her with fear and determination. Everyone except Varushka and Brandon, though they looked shocked. It was as if the fire she had evoked spread through her body and she felt unsure.

'Is this really me?' she thought, twisting and turning like a caged animal.

A part of her didn't like what she was doing, but a bigger part loved it. She loved being in control, being able to rule over herself. She felt like she deserved it. Her memories consisted of red, but her future looked bright as the fire.

Madam Bones pointed her wand at Alexander when Ylvanna had her back turned.

"Rennervate!"

Ylvanna turned around and watched as Alexander's eyes flickered open. She knelt down next to him and he smiled at her. He then looked at the ashes from the papers and then he looked at the others that were watching him.

"Phoenix fire. . . . quite extraordinary, don't you think?"

. . . .

The mood was a bit strained as Ylvanna and her three creators were allowed back in the room where Ylvanna lived. Brandon immediately sunk down on a chair, burying his face in his hands and muttering under his breath, thanking God that they had escaped prison.

It was Ylvanna who had saved them. When the Ministry saw how uncontrolled and violent she became when something happened to her creators, not even Scrimgeour could bring himself to send them to prison, though he would've loved to do so.

Bellman had wanted to study Ylvanna closer and they had come to an agreement that it was best if Ylvanna stayed in the Department of Mysteries for further notice. They had all agreed that it was best if she was locked up.

So even if Alexander and his two assistants had avoided prison, Ylvanna didn't feel like she had.

"Well, that went well", said Alexander rather cheerfully, sitting down next to Brandon and started fiddling with some loose threads from his robes.

Varushka let out a harsh laugh. Her eyes were no longer red, but their usual black. She stood with her back against the door, looking outraged.

"Well? You truly are mad, Alexander. That went anything but well. The notes. . . . All our research. . . .", she trailed off, being so angry that she couldn't speak.

Ylvanna stared at her feet, though they were now hidden by her dress which she had put on again.

'So much for doing a good impression', she thought bitterly, feeling her fingertips still tingle from where she had let out the fire.

"You think that was the only copy of the notes?" Alexander shook his white head, seeming disappointed. "Of course I have a copy, Varushka. I've got more than one copy. I just didn't want Bellman to get his hands on them. Ylvanna is my – our – project." He paused and then smiled a bit. "Plus, it was a good opportunity to show them what you can really do, Ylvanna."

She looked up and met his gaze. He didn't seem bothered by the trial or her powers. She tried to smile back.

Varushka dropped to the floor, looking flabbergasted. Brandon looked up from his hands. Alexander beamed at them all. He clapped his hands together.

"Well, shall we continue with breaking the law, though the Ministry now approve of it?"

* * *

**So, that was that. I hope it was worth the wait. **

**I know that things might seem a bit unclear about how Ylvanna came to be, but it will come up later in the story. Though if you have any questions, just ask. **

**Well, reviews are always appreciated! **

**Happy (early) New Year! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4! **

**Thank you for the support: the favourites, follows and reviews. **

**However, I did get a review from a Guest who said 'gagworthy Mary Sue. You should be embarrassed.' I get it that not everyone likes the same things and so in a story and I'm open to constructive criticism, but I didn't see this review to be that. If you're going to write something "negative", I would appreciate that it's done in a helpful way (motivations to why something's bad and perhaps some advice of improvement?). I deleted that review and I will delete reviews like that if they are not written as constructive criticism in a 'professional' way. **

**I hope I didn't offend anyone because I don't mean to, I just say what I think of the case of reviewing. **

**Wow, this is a long AN... I don't own anything about the Harry Potter world, JK Rowling does. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

**Chapter 4: Because you had a bad day, you're taking one down. You sing a sad song just to turn it around. **

_End of June, 1994. . . . _

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, had had a really bad day. He would go so far to say it was the worst day of his career as Minister. Not only had they captured Black – just to have him slip through their hands once more – but that blasted hippogriff had also managed to escape. Lucius Malfoy would surely throw a fit for that and Fudge could only hope that the newspapers didn't get words about Sirius Black's once again remarkable escape.

He sighed as he walked towards Dumbledore's office for an official chat about the Black situation. A black situation indeed.

The corridors of Hogwarts were empty. It was late at night or early morning, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Fudge thought his steps echoed too loud and a small part of him almost waited for Black to jump out from the shadows and murder him like he had done Peter Pettigrew and all those muggles thirteen years ago. He shuddered, the sound of Black's mad laughter still ringing in his ears. He sighed again. The sooner they caught him, the better. Perhaps Fudge could have a nice time sleeping for a change then.

He stood outside the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. Fudge straightened out his robes and tried not to look as tired as he felt.

"Sugar Quill", he said, remembering the password Dumbledore had told him before.

The gargoyle jumped aside, revealing a staircase that went in a circle upwards. Fudge climbed the stairs as quickly as his short legs allowed him. He could hear the gargoyle jump back to its original position.

When he was standing in front of the grand office door, he felt like a little schoolboy again. His hand was raised, but he didn't know if he should knock. After all, he was the Minister of Magic for Merlin's sake; he should not need to knock. But at the same time, it was impolite to just bark into someone's office, especially if this someone is Albus Dumbledore.

Before Fudge could make up his mind, there was a low call from the other side of the door.

"Please, come in, Cornelius."

Fudge lowered his hand and opened the door, fighting down the pinkness on his cheeks. How Dumbledore could know everything was a mystery to him, but he supposed he was grateful for it. It was without doubt that Dumbledore gave good advice.

Dumbledore's office looked the same as the few previous times Fudge had been there. It was a circular room with portraits of older Headmasters and Headmistresses covering most of the walls, now sleeping or pretending to do so. There was also shelves with books in different colors and on a table was some funny looking instruments that Fudge had no idea what they did. The golden perch where Dumbledore's phoenix used to sit was empty.

The Headmaster himself was seated behind his desk. His blue eyes were twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, but Fudge could not phantom the reason to why he would look amused.

"Have a seat, Cornelius", Dumbledore offered and nodded towards a chair in front of his desk. "Let's get this over with, shall we? Night is getting old and so are we, if I dare say so."

Fudge sat down, fidgeting a bit uncomfortably. Dumbledore took out a box of something from one of his drawers and offered it to Fudge.

"Sherbet Lemon?"

Fudge looked down at the yellow, sticky things in the box. The smell of lemon made its way up his nose; sour but oddly sweet.

"No thank you", he answered curtly, taking off his bowler and started to spin it around in his lap.

"If you say so", smiled Dumbledore and put the box back after taking one himself. "Personally, I feel that sugar is the best cure for restlessness and dark times. Everyone needs something sweet in their lives."

Fudge let out a noise that could've meant anything. He sighed and pursed his lips together.

"Dumbledore, I. . . .", he started to say, but the words stuck in his throat. He tried again: "I can't believe Black escaped. Are you _sure _that you don't have a theory how. Apparation seemed to be out of the question. . . ."

"You can't Apparete within Hogwarts, that's correct, yes."

One of the portraits on the wall snorted in a way that not even Fudge could excuse for a snore. Fudge ignored it, looking searchingly at Dumbledore. Dumbledore swallowed the last of his Sherbet Lemon and folded his hands over his long, silver beard.

"Hogwarts has many secrets", he eventually said, looking calm. "Not even I know them all. It seems that Sirius Black must've found a way out that no one had found before."

"But how?! He was locked up in a tower for Merlin's sake, with guards at the door. It should be impossible. . . ."

"Magic can do a lot of things, Cornelius", said Dumbledore with a small smile.

"I just can't understand. . . ." Fudge shook his head as if to get rid of something unpleasant. He sighed, feeling his pride ache, and tried a new approach: "What about Remus Lupin, hm? I heard from Snape that he and Black had been friends before. And I must say that it would be likely that he would've tried to help Black escape there in the Shrieking Shack. The fact that he's a werewolf. . . ."

"I trust Remus Lupin", Dumbledore cut him off and there was a warning in his voice. "I know that you were against me appointing him a teacher – a fair share of people was – but the students haven't complained. He has been more than capable, even with his condition. I'm sure that he was only trying to help there in the Shack, protecting Mr Potter, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley from certain dangers."

Fudge huffed, looking disgruntled.

"And then he turned into a werewolf", he said snappishly, looking shrewdly at Dumbledore. "He could not only have hurt three students – Harry Potter of all people! – but also giving Black time to escape. It was lucky that the Dementors and Snape acted as they did or Black would've escaped. Well, he managed anyway. . . ."

"You seem to forget, Minister", Dumbledore said, still sounding polite but with a hard look in his eyes, "that those Dementors was about to give an innocent student, a mere child, the Kiss. I want them gone by the morning or is the Ministry inquired to still have them here?"

That was another blow to Fudge's pride and career. The Dementors, whom he had ordered to guard the school, had turned and almost Kissed a thirteen year old boy. And again, not any usual boy, but Harry Potter. Fugde shuddered to think about what would've happened if Potter had actually been Kissed. Fudge's career would have been over then and he would surely have been put into Azkaban. At least a werewolf bite would have been better, to an extent. Potter would have been alive then. Well, it was no use to dwell upon it. No harm had come done.

"Of course they'll be removed", Fudge assured the older man. "What they did was unheard of. I'll have them gone as soon as possible, but we still need to discuss Black."

"What more is it to discuss?" Dumbledore sighed and turned his famous X-ray look to watch Fudge.

Fudge moved in his seat, twirling his bowler around so it was just a blur of purple. He tried to come up with something to say, something that would express his desperation of getting Black caught. He wetted his dry lips, before asking, quite carefully and slowly:

"And you are certain that Lupin didn't help him escape?"

"I am certain", Dumbledore said gravely, though the twinkle in his eyes was somewhat back. "Mr Lupin is currently a werewolf, running around in the Forbidden Forest. There's no chance that he would have been able to let Black out from Filius's office." Before Fudge could speak again, Dumbledore continued in a voice that held traces of humor. "Then of course, there are other options of who could have helped Black escape. Severus Snape was there when he was captured, as you know, but between you and me, it doesn't seem very likely that he would help Black, now would it?"

Fudge got the impression that Dumbledore made fun of him. Fudge remembered Snape's reaction to Black's escape very well. The man had looked mad, completely furious. Fudge couldn't recall anyone he had met that had reacted like that ever in his whole life. Though with a background like Snape's, Fudge didn't exactly trust the man's sanity.

Dumbledore's mustache twitched and almost glittered in the light from the candles as he smiled. Fudge wasn't smiling. On the contrary, he looked very disgruntled. He had stopped twirling his bowler. The portraits on the walls were suspiciously quiet. Fudge straightened up but Dumbledore beat him to the word:

"Then there are also the three children that were present during this event, though I'm afraid that Mr Weasley would've had quite the difficulty with walking as his leg is broken. . . ."

"Oh, for the love of Morgana, Dumbledore!" cried Fudge exasperatedly and now he was sure that the portraits were awake, hearing them laughing quietly and watching him being mocked. "I understand what you want to say. Black's escape is a mystery and we have no suspects. Let's leave it there. Godric, what a day this has been. . . ."

He wiped his forehead with a saffron colored handkerchief, looking positively exhausted. Dumbledore's gaze softened and he smiled an almost apologetic smile.

"Was there something else?" he asked, rolling his thumbs. "What are your plans about Black now?"

Fudge sighed again and he felt older for every sigh he drew.

"No, that was it, I believe", he said and he started to get up. "The Dementors will be gone by the morning and I'll give Lupin the benefit of the doubt. As for Black, I have no idea. . . . Do you think there's a chance he will return?"

"To Hogwarts? I doubt it", Dumbledore answered sincerely.

"Oh well. . . ."

Both men stood up; Fudge short and chubby, Dumbledore tall and thin. Fudge put on his bowler again and offered Dumbledore his hands after a brief moment of hesitation. Dumbledore accepted it.

"Well, I appreciate your help, Albus", Fudge said formally. "Even though the outcome could have been different."

"Anytime, Cornelius", Dumbledore said humbly. "Minister."

Fudge nodded and was about to leave when a phoenix appeared. It looked tired and ugly, its usual bright feathers somewhat duller. Dumbledore patted the phoenix as it landed on its perch.

"Fawkes's nearing his burning day", Dumbledore informed Fudge while looking at the phoenix with fondness. "I sent him out to check the school grounds, but Black's not here."

Fudge barely listened. He stared at the phoenix as if he had never seen anything like it.

"They're powerful, aren't they?" Fudge eventually asked. "Phoenixes I mean."

"Why yes", Dumbledore replied and looked at the Minister with a slightly curious gaze. "They can carry heavy things, their tears have healing powers and when they die, they're reborn. They are also loyal to those they think deserve their loyalty. I am very lucky to have Fawkes."

"Yes, very lucky indeed. . . ."

Both Dumbledore and Fawkes looked at the Minister, who seemed to be in deep thoughts. The portraits had opened their eyes and were curiously gazing down on the two men and the phoenix. Outside, the sky took on a deep blue, a shade darker than Dumbledore's eyes. Dawn was arriving.

Fudge gave the phoenix a last calculating look, before turning to Dumbledore, now smiling.

"Well, I should leave. I have a Ministry to run after all." He chuckled lightly and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the sudden mood change. "Thanks again for your time, Albus and don't worry about Black. I'll make sure that he's back in Azkaban in no time."

This made the portraits start to mutter between each other and Fawkes made a raspy chirp that still managed to sound hauntingly sad. Dumbledore furrowed his brows.

"What are you planning, Cornelius?"

Fudge was already at the door. He smiled and waved one hand in a careless gesture.

"Nothing you need to worry about. Take care now and I'll see you about the planning of the Triwizard Tournament this summer."

With that, he left the office. Dumbledore could hear him whistle as his steps faded away.

* * *

**So, that was that. **

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